My dog, Kita, has a fetish for dirty tissues. She will grab them when you turn the other way, out of the garbage can or if they are neglectfully left on a side table. She chews them apart before you can count to one and digests some of it. I see pink and white in her poop all the time. I don't know why she loves this so much, but it drives me crazy. All the garbage cans in the house have to sit up on counters or on chairs, even the ones with lids. She will knock a can over to get inside and she will chew on the ends of garbage bags so those have to be put out right away. I bought her a new, cute little collar with a charm on it today, very feminine, hoping she would act that way too. Alas, she has not.
She will stand, in all her glory, looking at me and bark her head off. I don't know what she wants so I tell her to shut up. But when she won't, I get up and walk with her and she is trying to tell me she's out of food or water. She's a very intelligent dog, with an unintelligent owner. So I fill her dishes with food and water and go back to my room. Last night, I told her it was time for bed, so we prepared to go to bed. When I finally laid down, I stretched out and she stood up on the bed and barked at me. I angrily yelled at her to shut up, and because she wasn't lacking in anything and because she knew momma was mad, she laid down next to me and went to sleep.
Now when I was raising my kids and they went to the Christian School, they got demerits for saying "Shut up." It was like cursing, I guess, but that's how I was raised. My father told us to "shut up" all the time, so I never thought of it being wrong. But then he also told us we were "idiots" all the time too. "Shut up, you idiot" was a common sentence when we were growing up. I actually never thought I was an idiot, but I never thought of myself as being smart either. I was about C average my whole life, except for some subjects which I hated and then I got D's and even F's. I hated school. The only part I liked about it was art class and hanging out with my friends. Other than that, I barely made it through.
I took my whole junior year in the hospital, and cheated the whole way through it. The staff made it very easy to cheat because they would always leave the room when we had tests, and I would go to the teacher's desk and copy the answers down from his answer sheet. I, in fact learned nothing my whole junior year. That was the year I had to learn about government and politics and all of that. I hated politics then and I still hate it, so really it was no loss.
When I got out of the hospital, my parents put me in a school for "emotionally-problem children" and I took my whole senior year there. That was a breeze because I got to pick the subjects and I picked art, of course, and English. As I remember, there were only two subjects the whole year. I received my high school diploma from this school and I learned very little there as well, although I loved art class and I learned how to write better in English. And of course I got to hang out with all of the other emotionally-problem children there who became my friends. The school was a cool, old mansion in Chicago near the lake and the little yellow school bus would pick me up every day. Yeah, I was one of the mentals on the little yellow school bus. For some reason, though, I was never embarrassed about it. My attitude was if you didn't like it, let's fight about it. I had so much pent up anger inside of me, I never really hurt anyone, but I was very capable of it.
Now Kita is eating. She takes one morsel of food and runs to the carpeting, sits down and munches on the one morsel. She likes to eat in comfort. She does this until all her food is gone. She's a very strange dog. In a few minutes, she will stand in front of me and bark because she will want to jump up on my lap. She's quite demanding. But I can't hold her and type at the same time, so she will just have to wait. Or I have to hurry. Probably the latter because she wasn't born with a lot of patience. But then, neither was I...
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
A Wounded Animal
I got into a pretty heated argument with my dad tonight. A neighbor came over and was telling us that she will never forgive her daughter, even if her daughter goes to her and apologizes. She re-wrote her will and she and her husband have written her out of their lives. When she left, I said I couldn't believe that they would do that. Nothing my kids ever do could cause me to write them off and disown them. I can't even wrap my mind around that, it's so utterly selfish.
My father proceeded to say that he was going to do that with me when I had Jason. I told him that I know, because he's prejudice and he had a hard time with his father being black. But that's not how it went at all. I'm the one who told my parents when Jason was only a few months old, that if they showed him any attitude at all, then I would have nothing to do with them anymore - and I meant it. I kept telling them that it wasn't my baby's fault and they weren't going to take it out on him. My father disagreed and said he was the one who was going to disown me, and I just let it go because that's not what we argued about.
Somehow our conversation got around to bitterness and unforgiveness and I said that our neighbor is only hurting herself by not forgiving her daughter. My dad proceeded to tell me about a business that he had many years ago and about a partner who shoved him out of his own business and how he hates him still. He said if he saw him on the street, he would kill him. And then he listed all the people he hated, calling them names and saying things about them, including killing my children's father if he ever saw him. He has hate and bitterness so deep down inside that he can't see the forest for the trees.
I tried to tell my dad that I learned when you hold bitterness and hatred inside, it only makes the one who's holding it, sick and unhappy. I couldn't talk about the fact that God couldn't forgive him if he didn't forgive others, because he doesn't believe in God like that. I did tell him my old pastor preached a lot about bitterness and unforgiveness because people are always holding grudges and not letting things go, and not forgiving one another, and how detrimental that is - physically, emotionally and spiritually. His response to all of this was that he's fine just the way he is and he will never change, in a very angry and bitter tone. It was a very uncomfortable conversation/argument and I didn't get anywhere at all because he's made his mind up and he refuses to let it go.
What does bitterness and hatred prove? Who does it hurt? It certainly does not hurt the one who it's directed toward. That person is most likely going merrily on their way. But it most definitely does hurt the one who holds the bitterness and hatred. How is that productive? How does that help any situation? He didn't care. He was going to stay stubbornly angry and bitter and not ever forgive anyone who has ever wronged him. He acts as though he is the only one who has ever been hurt and I told him so. I also told him that "the world does not revolve around you and you're not the only one who has ever been hurt." That, of course, infuriated him. Sometimes, I need to know the right time to stop, but I was already on a roll and I kept going.
I told him he was sick and mean and ornery because he is an angry, bitter and unforgiving person. I thought he was going to jump up and smack me, but of course he can't go that fast. I could even outrun him at this point. My mom just sat there as she always does, never getting into the mix. I don't know if that's good or bad, but it used to aggravate me as a kid because she never stuck up for us. She was probably too scared to say anything, although my dad would never hurt her. He verbally lashes out but I've never seen him hit my mom or us kids. The only thing he used to do to me was to grab me by my collar and scream in my face until I cried. It must have been really hard for him to have that much self control that he never hit me. Lord knows I deserved it.
This happened before dinner, and then we ate and acted like nothing happened. Such weirdness. We all blow up and let out our feelings (except my mom), then we go on to the next meal or next thing we have to do. Jews are explosive that way. At least in my family they are. But at least you know where my dad stands. He's racist and sexist and an angry, bitter man, but he admits this. He has that going for him - he's not a hypocrit.
He also loves me. He loves his family, and that says a lot for my dad. Even though it's sometimes hard to vision, he does all he can for his family. In his eyes, taking care of your family is the paramount responsibility of the father/husband, and I'm thankful he did. I was never in want for anything. And all those lean years where I struggled being a single parent, my father "lent" me more money than I could ever repay, and helped me in more ways than one.
So this is what a wounded animal is like. He was probably fun-loving and witty at some point in his life, but then hurts came. Rejection and betrayal came on all sides. Those he trusted lied and cheated and did him wrong. Those he loved did things that hurt him and he could never understand. He began to withdraw, distrust and resent. He became bitter and hateful and mean. And no one feels comfortable around him because he's always ready to attack. And this is what a wounded animal is like.
My father proceeded to say that he was going to do that with me when I had Jason. I told him that I know, because he's prejudice and he had a hard time with his father being black. But that's not how it went at all. I'm the one who told my parents when Jason was only a few months old, that if they showed him any attitude at all, then I would have nothing to do with them anymore - and I meant it. I kept telling them that it wasn't my baby's fault and they weren't going to take it out on him. My father disagreed and said he was the one who was going to disown me, and I just let it go because that's not what we argued about.
Somehow our conversation got around to bitterness and unforgiveness and I said that our neighbor is only hurting herself by not forgiving her daughter. My dad proceeded to tell me about a business that he had many years ago and about a partner who shoved him out of his own business and how he hates him still. He said if he saw him on the street, he would kill him. And then he listed all the people he hated, calling them names and saying things about them, including killing my children's father if he ever saw him. He has hate and bitterness so deep down inside that he can't see the forest for the trees.
I tried to tell my dad that I learned when you hold bitterness and hatred inside, it only makes the one who's holding it, sick and unhappy. I couldn't talk about the fact that God couldn't forgive him if he didn't forgive others, because he doesn't believe in God like that. I did tell him my old pastor preached a lot about bitterness and unforgiveness because people are always holding grudges and not letting things go, and not forgiving one another, and how detrimental that is - physically, emotionally and spiritually. His response to all of this was that he's fine just the way he is and he will never change, in a very angry and bitter tone. It was a very uncomfortable conversation/argument and I didn't get anywhere at all because he's made his mind up and he refuses to let it go.
What does bitterness and hatred prove? Who does it hurt? It certainly does not hurt the one who it's directed toward. That person is most likely going merrily on their way. But it most definitely does hurt the one who holds the bitterness and hatred. How is that productive? How does that help any situation? He didn't care. He was going to stay stubbornly angry and bitter and not ever forgive anyone who has ever wronged him. He acts as though he is the only one who has ever been hurt and I told him so. I also told him that "the world does not revolve around you and you're not the only one who has ever been hurt." That, of course, infuriated him. Sometimes, I need to know the right time to stop, but I was already on a roll and I kept going.
I told him he was sick and mean and ornery because he is an angry, bitter and unforgiving person. I thought he was going to jump up and smack me, but of course he can't go that fast. I could even outrun him at this point. My mom just sat there as she always does, never getting into the mix. I don't know if that's good or bad, but it used to aggravate me as a kid because she never stuck up for us. She was probably too scared to say anything, although my dad would never hurt her. He verbally lashes out but I've never seen him hit my mom or us kids. The only thing he used to do to me was to grab me by my collar and scream in my face until I cried. It must have been really hard for him to have that much self control that he never hit me. Lord knows I deserved it.
This happened before dinner, and then we ate and acted like nothing happened. Such weirdness. We all blow up and let out our feelings (except my mom), then we go on to the next meal or next thing we have to do. Jews are explosive that way. At least in my family they are. But at least you know where my dad stands. He's racist and sexist and an angry, bitter man, but he admits this. He has that going for him - he's not a hypocrit.
He also loves me. He loves his family, and that says a lot for my dad. Even though it's sometimes hard to vision, he does all he can for his family. In his eyes, taking care of your family is the paramount responsibility of the father/husband, and I'm thankful he did. I was never in want for anything. And all those lean years where I struggled being a single parent, my father "lent" me more money than I could ever repay, and helped me in more ways than one.
So this is what a wounded animal is like. He was probably fun-loving and witty at some point in his life, but then hurts came. Rejection and betrayal came on all sides. Those he trusted lied and cheated and did him wrong. Those he loved did things that hurt him and he could never understand. He began to withdraw, distrust and resent. He became bitter and hateful and mean. And no one feels comfortable around him because he's always ready to attack. And this is what a wounded animal is like.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Art Class
I finally did something today that I've been meaning to do, but haven't gotten around to it. I went to downtown Venice, which is a really cute, eclectic collection of stores and restaurants, and met a nun who teaches art. She has a studio in which she teaches children and adults alike and I've been wanting to do this for a long time. So this morning I learned different techniques of watercolor. I thought I would start with that since I have most of the supplies already. She also teaches acrylic, oils and clay. I'd like to learn oils and clay eventually, although I'm not sure I would be able to do the clay since my wrists are shot. But I would definitely like to learn to do oil painting.
She was not what I pictured a nun to be. First off, she wore a t-shirt and what we used to call petal-pushers, but I'm sure they call them something different today. She was kind of gruff and meandered about like she didn't know where to start. But after awhile, she showed me and I followed her as we went along, and I got to know her a bit better. She lives in a convent in Venice and she considers her studio as part of her ministry, along with spiritual guidance/counseling. She has all sorts of stuff in her studio for sale, most of which she did, but some of her students did also. She made a pregnant woman out of clay that stands a good foot or two tall and I would love to buy it, but it's $1,000. She paints a lot with watercolors, of the beach and water and foliage type of paintings. She's really quite good. I enjoyed it, since I was the only one she was teaching. Her teaching style is very relaxed and it's by example, which I need, even though I felt like I had palsy trying to hold the paintbrush correctly. A few other ladies came later and one of them worked on the pottery wheel and the other painted china - which is not something I would ever do - it looked too painstaking and putzy. The wheel looked fun, but again, I don't think my hands could tolerate that.
So I came home with a little painting I did which I copied from her. It's really nothing, but it is a start. Now I just have to motivate myself to do it. I don't know why that's so hard. What I also found out today was that there is no art supply store in Venice, which I find really strange. Sis. Maureen said that it is strange, seeing that there are so many artists in Venice (there is a big art center here). I need to buy a palette to mix my paints, so I'll probably order it online, as there is nothing local. I wish I had the means - I would open an art supply store here.
There's something magical when you create something. I can't explain it, but those of you who create, know what I mean. It's very satisfying, like eating a huge meal. Except in this case, you don't gain weight and you have something to show for your efforts. I wish I had my own space to do this, though. All I have right now is the dining room table and that is cluttered with dishes and glasses. I'm not used to living in such tight quarters, but this is not forever. I keep telling myself that.
My mom is doing much better. She's walking with the physical therapist and can even take a shower on her own, as long as one of us is right there beside her. My dad is ornery as usual. I don't know what gets under his skin, but sometimes he can be so mean. Just his look can pierce right through you. If my mom isn't pushing herself fast enough in the wheelchair and he wants to get by, he'll either push her with his walker or let the walker go and push her himself in a rush. They've been arguing a lot lately; I think my dad thinks that she should be "back to normal by now." He told the nurse that he "just wants his wife back," which means, he wants her to be able to do everything she used to do. It wouldn't kill him to learn how to be a little more self-sufficient. It's unbelievable how spoiled the men were in his day. My mom isn 't helping out a whole lot either. She is just rolling along slowly, doing her own thing. Tonight when I was preparing dinner, I told her, "Last time I looked, your hands aren't broken," because she was just sitting there and not helping. I said it teasing, but I think I got my point across too. Today at lunch, I made my father prepare his own yogurt and cottage cheese. What an ordeal. It's a matter of mixing the two ingredients together. I had to tell him how many seconds to put his bagel in the microwave on for. You'd think after all these years, he would take some initiative himself to learn this. After all, their microwave is an ancient machine that was probably bought in the 80's.
She was not what I pictured a nun to be. First off, she wore a t-shirt and what we used to call petal-pushers, but I'm sure they call them something different today. She was kind of gruff and meandered about like she didn't know where to start. But after awhile, she showed me and I followed her as we went along, and I got to know her a bit better. She lives in a convent in Venice and she considers her studio as part of her ministry, along with spiritual guidance/counseling. She has all sorts of stuff in her studio for sale, most of which she did, but some of her students did also. She made a pregnant woman out of clay that stands a good foot or two tall and I would love to buy it, but it's $1,000. She paints a lot with watercolors, of the beach and water and foliage type of paintings. She's really quite good. I enjoyed it, since I was the only one she was teaching. Her teaching style is very relaxed and it's by example, which I need, even though I felt like I had palsy trying to hold the paintbrush correctly. A few other ladies came later and one of them worked on the pottery wheel and the other painted china - which is not something I would ever do - it looked too painstaking and putzy. The wheel looked fun, but again, I don't think my hands could tolerate that.
So I came home with a little painting I did which I copied from her. It's really nothing, but it is a start. Now I just have to motivate myself to do it. I don't know why that's so hard. What I also found out today was that there is no art supply store in Venice, which I find really strange. Sis. Maureen said that it is strange, seeing that there are so many artists in Venice (there is a big art center here). I need to buy a palette to mix my paints, so I'll probably order it online, as there is nothing local. I wish I had the means - I would open an art supply store here.
There's something magical when you create something. I can't explain it, but those of you who create, know what I mean. It's very satisfying, like eating a huge meal. Except in this case, you don't gain weight and you have something to show for your efforts. I wish I had my own space to do this, though. All I have right now is the dining room table and that is cluttered with dishes and glasses. I'm not used to living in such tight quarters, but this is not forever. I keep telling myself that.
My mom is doing much better. She's walking with the physical therapist and can even take a shower on her own, as long as one of us is right there beside her. My dad is ornery as usual. I don't know what gets under his skin, but sometimes he can be so mean. Just his look can pierce right through you. If my mom isn't pushing herself fast enough in the wheelchair and he wants to get by, he'll either push her with his walker or let the walker go and push her himself in a rush. They've been arguing a lot lately; I think my dad thinks that she should be "back to normal by now." He told the nurse that he "just wants his wife back," which means, he wants her to be able to do everything she used to do. It wouldn't kill him to learn how to be a little more self-sufficient. It's unbelievable how spoiled the men were in his day. My mom isn 't helping out a whole lot either. She is just rolling along slowly, doing her own thing. Tonight when I was preparing dinner, I told her, "Last time I looked, your hands aren't broken," because she was just sitting there and not helping. I said it teasing, but I think I got my point across too. Today at lunch, I made my father prepare his own yogurt and cottage cheese. What an ordeal. It's a matter of mixing the two ingredients together. I had to tell him how many seconds to put his bagel in the microwave on for. You'd think after all these years, he would take some initiative himself to learn this. After all, their microwave is an ancient machine that was probably bought in the 80's.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Ten Things You May or May Not Know About Me
I'm a naturally curious person. I like to hear what others think about, what they like and don't like and what their lives are all about. I hate those emails where people tell 10 or 20 things about themselves, but the questions are dumb, like who cares if you like chocolate or vanilla, or Coke or Pepsi? I like to learn more about people by listening to their actual stories. You learn a lot, not only about the person who's talking, but also about life itself.
So I was thinking today of writing 10 things you may or may not know about me. Some of you may not care at all and that's fine. This is not for everyone. But because I like stuff that you don't have to rack.your brain over, allow me to entertain myself and possibly you.
1. You might find this ironic, but I hate to read. I really do. I'm sure I had ADD as a kid so it's also carried on with me as an adult, and I find it incredibly difficult to even re-read these blogs to check for grammatical errors. I do, of course, but it's hard. It's weird that I can write fairly well, but can hardly read a lick. The only book I do read, and that is in small portions, is the Bible. I read different stuff people put online or online news, things like that, but I think, besides the Bible, I've only read one or two books all the way through. I have read the Bible a few times all the way through, but it was more for a discipline than for the enjoyment of a novel or such. Yeah, I know it's lame, but this is the truth.
2. I would rather listen than talk. My mind gets all jumbled up when I have good or interesting thoughts in it, and then when I try to express myself, I usually sound like a blithering idiot. I don't know if it's all the drugs I take every day (approximately 15), or getting old, or that I'm just not a good speaker. I actually enjoy listening to others, to hear what they say and talk about how they feel. I do not like when someone monopolizes the conversation, though - that irritates the heck out of me. When that happens, I will either exit the situation or turn my attention toward someone else.
3. Today is my birthday and I am 56. And this is really hard for me to believe. I mean, my physical body feels older than that, but my mind is still stuck at 17. Wow, wouldn't that be cool if my physical body and my mind were in sync - I would have a blast! But alas, that's not the case and so I live with what I have. I'm actually more content now than I've ever been in my life, and that's saying a lot. So getting old doesn't have to be such a drag, although it is in some ways. It's all in the way you look at it, and right now, I'm very content.
4. I love to eat and I hate to diet, much to my mother's chagrin. That wouldn't be a shock to anyone who has ever known me. I've dieted my whole life and my weight goes up and down and up and down, like a huge yo-yo. This is a real drag, because I love food. I'm convinced I'm addicted to food. Not that that is a horrific thing. Much better than cigarettes, alcohol or crack. But still is a problem, especially for my mother. I am getting bolder though, as I will eat a donut right in front of her now. Believe me - that's a major event. I just don't look at her and I'm fine. The Butterfingers are still stashed away quietly in my dresser drawer, just in case, however. That might just put her over the edge if she knew they were there.
5. I love my children and my grandchildren and miss them more than I can say. Now if you know me at all, you'll know this is the absolute truth. My grandchildren are the light of my life. I smile the whole time I'm with them, as they bring me so much joy. Ashanti and I are very close and I miss that. She is getting so big, soon she'll be 7. Time goes too fast. Donovan finally started coming to me and is very loving. He likes to keep my attention by calling my name over and over. I love it. And Jade is just a little pistol. She has big brothers to look up to and romp with and she will be well able to take care of herself in the end. I miss snuggling with her and letting her fall asleep in my arms. I wish Micah and Jasmine were closer because I only get to see them once, maybe twice a year, which isn't enough. Jason, Leah and Parris are closer and I'm looking forward to seeing them in a few weeks when I go to Madison. I'm not used to having my family so far from me and I don't like it. In fact, I hate it. But God knows and He's in control and I trust Him.
6. I am in pain 24 hours a day, literally. Even in my sleep, I wake up to switch sides as my hands are continually falling asleep. I get tired of talking about it, but it's the truth. I take so many medicines, including pain meds, and I'm still in pain. Constant pain. It's the weirdest thing if you've never experienced it. The only time it lets up is when I am in the pool. There, my hands are ok and I can float and move my body with such ease. But I can't live in the pool, as much as I would like to. I'm very much a water person, but when the water is cold, it turns me off. And it's starting to get a bit colder down here, so I won't be able to use the pool as much. Cold water goes through me like electricity - I can't handle it. I'm learning to live with this pain, because there's really nothing else I can do. I cannot remember the last time I wasn't in pain, it's been that long ago.
7. I hate prejudice, egotistical and prideful people. Well, I shouldn't say "hate." You really shouldn't hate anyone, but I find these types very annoying and for the most part, stay clear of them. So if you happen to be in any of those categories, you'll know why I avoid you.
8. I value friendship and love above all. I found out what true friendship and love was when I was in the mental hospital. I learned a lot about relationships there and it has helped me all of my adult life. Not that I've always chosen the best people to be around. And there were times when I had to be pryed away from a few of them by my children or really good friends. But all in all, I look at the person's character and quickly decide whether we would be a good match, so to speak. Not everyone can be friends. But I have been blessed with many diverse friends, all of whom I enjoy in one way or the other. Without friends and love, life must be a most dismal place to be.
9. I used to love to sing, but have a hard time even talking now because of chronic laryngitis. It really aggravates me. If I talk too long, which isn't long, I lose my voice. I used to love to sing in church, and I actually frequently sang solos -- which always scared me to death. But I loved it so much, that I would push past my fears and do it anyway. I miss that, but now I can't even get through a song without losing my voice completely, so in church I will sing for awhile, then hum or mouth the words the rest of the time. I actually think I destroyed my vocal cords so many years ago, yelling at my kids. That's what I get...
10. I love Jesus Christ with all my heart, soul, mind and body, even though I was born and raised a Jew. And there will be many of you who don't understand this, and that's ok. All you have to do is ask me sometime and I can give you a clear idea of what I believe, if you don't know already. We may not agree on moral values, lifestyles or religious views, but I can tell you, that I love you just the same. You wouldn't be my friend, and probably not be reading this, otherwise. I can tell you that God has helped and guided me all of my life, but it wasn't until about 31 years ago that I actually recognized this. And it hasn't been the same ever since. If you think that I can raise three children alone to be respected and well-adjusted adults, you're wrong. It was only with the help of Jesus that I was able to do that and still keep my sanity. Aren't you at all curious? Man, I would be!
So there you have it - me in a nutshell. It could appear to be pretty arrogant to talk only about yourself in a blog, but I hope it doesn't come across that way. I wrote it for my behalf as well, because sometimes I need to stop and check and make sure I'm living the way I profess to be living. And if you are ever curious about anything I am about, please ask. I'm basically an open book. An open book who doesn't much read...
So I was thinking today of writing 10 things you may or may not know about me. Some of you may not care at all and that's fine. This is not for everyone. But because I like stuff that you don't have to rack.your brain over, allow me to entertain myself and possibly you.
1. You might find this ironic, but I hate to read. I really do. I'm sure I had ADD as a kid so it's also carried on with me as an adult, and I find it incredibly difficult to even re-read these blogs to check for grammatical errors. I do, of course, but it's hard. It's weird that I can write fairly well, but can hardly read a lick. The only book I do read, and that is in small portions, is the Bible. I read different stuff people put online or online news, things like that, but I think, besides the Bible, I've only read one or two books all the way through. I have read the Bible a few times all the way through, but it was more for a discipline than for the enjoyment of a novel or such. Yeah, I know it's lame, but this is the truth.
2. I would rather listen than talk. My mind gets all jumbled up when I have good or interesting thoughts in it, and then when I try to express myself, I usually sound like a blithering idiot. I don't know if it's all the drugs I take every day (approximately 15), or getting old, or that I'm just not a good speaker. I actually enjoy listening to others, to hear what they say and talk about how they feel. I do not like when someone monopolizes the conversation, though - that irritates the heck out of me. When that happens, I will either exit the situation or turn my attention toward someone else.
3. Today is my birthday and I am 56. And this is really hard for me to believe. I mean, my physical body feels older than that, but my mind is still stuck at 17. Wow, wouldn't that be cool if my physical body and my mind were in sync - I would have a blast! But alas, that's not the case and so I live with what I have. I'm actually more content now than I've ever been in my life, and that's saying a lot. So getting old doesn't have to be such a drag, although it is in some ways. It's all in the way you look at it, and right now, I'm very content.
4. I love to eat and I hate to diet, much to my mother's chagrin. That wouldn't be a shock to anyone who has ever known me. I've dieted my whole life and my weight goes up and down and up and down, like a huge yo-yo. This is a real drag, because I love food. I'm convinced I'm addicted to food. Not that that is a horrific thing. Much better than cigarettes, alcohol or crack. But still is a problem, especially for my mother. I am getting bolder though, as I will eat a donut right in front of her now. Believe me - that's a major event. I just don't look at her and I'm fine. The Butterfingers are still stashed away quietly in my dresser drawer, just in case, however. That might just put her over the edge if she knew they were there.
5. I love my children and my grandchildren and miss them more than I can say. Now if you know me at all, you'll know this is the absolute truth. My grandchildren are the light of my life. I smile the whole time I'm with them, as they bring me so much joy. Ashanti and I are very close and I miss that. She is getting so big, soon she'll be 7. Time goes too fast. Donovan finally started coming to me and is very loving. He likes to keep my attention by calling my name over and over. I love it. And Jade is just a little pistol. She has big brothers to look up to and romp with and she will be well able to take care of herself in the end. I miss snuggling with her and letting her fall asleep in my arms. I wish Micah and Jasmine were closer because I only get to see them once, maybe twice a year, which isn't enough. Jason, Leah and Parris are closer and I'm looking forward to seeing them in a few weeks when I go to Madison. I'm not used to having my family so far from me and I don't like it. In fact, I hate it. But God knows and He's in control and I trust Him.
6. I am in pain 24 hours a day, literally. Even in my sleep, I wake up to switch sides as my hands are continually falling asleep. I get tired of talking about it, but it's the truth. I take so many medicines, including pain meds, and I'm still in pain. Constant pain. It's the weirdest thing if you've never experienced it. The only time it lets up is when I am in the pool. There, my hands are ok and I can float and move my body with such ease. But I can't live in the pool, as much as I would like to. I'm very much a water person, but when the water is cold, it turns me off. And it's starting to get a bit colder down here, so I won't be able to use the pool as much. Cold water goes through me like electricity - I can't handle it. I'm learning to live with this pain, because there's really nothing else I can do. I cannot remember the last time I wasn't in pain, it's been that long ago.
7. I hate prejudice, egotistical and prideful people. Well, I shouldn't say "hate." You really shouldn't hate anyone, but I find these types very annoying and for the most part, stay clear of them. So if you happen to be in any of those categories, you'll know why I avoid you.
8. I value friendship and love above all. I found out what true friendship and love was when I was in the mental hospital. I learned a lot about relationships there and it has helped me all of my adult life. Not that I've always chosen the best people to be around. And there were times when I had to be pryed away from a few of them by my children or really good friends. But all in all, I look at the person's character and quickly decide whether we would be a good match, so to speak. Not everyone can be friends. But I have been blessed with many diverse friends, all of whom I enjoy in one way or the other. Without friends and love, life must be a most dismal place to be.
9. I used to love to sing, but have a hard time even talking now because of chronic laryngitis. It really aggravates me. If I talk too long, which isn't long, I lose my voice. I used to love to sing in church, and I actually frequently sang solos -- which always scared me to death. But I loved it so much, that I would push past my fears and do it anyway. I miss that, but now I can't even get through a song without losing my voice completely, so in church I will sing for awhile, then hum or mouth the words the rest of the time. I actually think I destroyed my vocal cords so many years ago, yelling at my kids. That's what I get...
10. I love Jesus Christ with all my heart, soul, mind and body, even though I was born and raised a Jew. And there will be many of you who don't understand this, and that's ok. All you have to do is ask me sometime and I can give you a clear idea of what I believe, if you don't know already. We may not agree on moral values, lifestyles or religious views, but I can tell you, that I love you just the same. You wouldn't be my friend, and probably not be reading this, otherwise. I can tell you that God has helped and guided me all of my life, but it wasn't until about 31 years ago that I actually recognized this. And it hasn't been the same ever since. If you think that I can raise three children alone to be respected and well-adjusted adults, you're wrong. It was only with the help of Jesus that I was able to do that and still keep my sanity. Aren't you at all curious? Man, I would be!
So there you have it - me in a nutshell. It could appear to be pretty arrogant to talk only about yourself in a blog, but I hope it doesn't come across that way. I wrote it for my behalf as well, because sometimes I need to stop and check and make sure I'm living the way I profess to be living. And if you are ever curious about anything I am about, please ask. I'm basically an open book. An open book who doesn't much read...
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Real Life
My kids have introduced me to some games on the internet that are silly, a waste of time and I am totally addicted to them. One of them is called "Cityville Hometown" that you build houses and shops, etc. with coins which you earn. I love to hear the money go "Cha-ching!" every time I click on the coins. So I'm building a little city with stores and houses, a baseball field, a college and a whole lot more. It's a total waste of time, but I love it! The only thing they're missing are little cars to drive on the little roads. The other game is called "Tap Zoo." This is also a mindless game that you're building a zoo and the more animals you get into the zoo, the more coins you get, thus more money! I love to see the numbers run into the hundreds of thousands of "dollars." It's really funny how I scramble to get on these two games in the morning to see how many coins I can get in one day. And when I "pay" for more land on either game, it's awe-inspiring because I can build or place new animals in the empty space. Of course there is a point to where you have to stop and begin your real day, but for just some moments in time, I feel like I'm actually in control of my little city and zoo, in contrast to my real life. Maybe that's why these types of games are so addictive. You can be in control of something. I don't know. I just know that they are really fun.
I also play two word games on my phone. One is like Scrabble and can get really tough. I usually do this one right before I go to sleep at night. Most of the time I lose. The other game is like "Hangman," which also is tough. And I usually lose that one as well. I'm obviously geared more toward mindless, money-making, control freak-type games. There is a great deal of pleasure in owning property, stores and animals without competition and without using real money.
So real life happens after I pry myself away from the computer and my phone. My mom is getting better slowly but surely and my dad is about the same. I am so tired of having to say something over and over and over again, though. And if I yell it in the first place, my dad will get angry. A typical conversation is like this: "Dad, what does G-men mean?" "Green tea?" "No, G-MEN." "Mean men?" "NO. G-MEN!" "OH, G-men, well that means government men." If it gets that far, I get my answer, but usually I just say, "Never mind" and end it after the second try. They both have to get their hearing checked. My mom practically whispers and my dad can't hear her unless he's right next to her, and even then he can't. So I am forever interpreting what each of them are saying. I can't even tell you how annoying that is. It would be far easier if we all knew sign language. I mean, we're sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner and he's got the news on full blast because he can't hear it, even though it's a few feet away. And then if we try to have a conversation, he tries to talk over the tv which of course doesn't work. I think my mom whispers just to aggravate him and get him to turn the tv down.
When you look at my dad in the face, one of his eyes goes one way and the other goes slightly another way, which is really weird. So I asked him, "Dad, why does one of your eyes go way off somewhere, while the other one is looking at me?" He said, "I don't know," kind of gruff and annoyed. But he told me tonight that he wants to make an appointment with the eye doctor to see what's wrong with it. I would say that my dad is turning into a pirate and his eye is just preparing him for his role. He's already got the scowl and growl down. Or maybe it's part of his costume for Halloween. But then, there goes my imagination again. My dad would never go trick or treating. In fact, no one goes trick or treating around here - there's just a bunch of old people here. I did hear the sound of kids earlier in the afternoon, but it must have been a figment of my imagination.
However, I do intend on buying a jumbo bag of Butterfingers for October 31st, just in case...
I also play two word games on my phone. One is like Scrabble and can get really tough. I usually do this one right before I go to sleep at night. Most of the time I lose. The other game is like "Hangman," which also is tough. And I usually lose that one as well. I'm obviously geared more toward mindless, money-making, control freak-type games. There is a great deal of pleasure in owning property, stores and animals without competition and without using real money.
So real life happens after I pry myself away from the computer and my phone. My mom is getting better slowly but surely and my dad is about the same. I am so tired of having to say something over and over and over again, though. And if I yell it in the first place, my dad will get angry. A typical conversation is like this: "Dad, what does G-men mean?" "Green tea?" "No, G-MEN." "Mean men?" "NO. G-MEN!" "OH, G-men, well that means government men." If it gets that far, I get my answer, but usually I just say, "Never mind" and end it after the second try. They both have to get their hearing checked. My mom practically whispers and my dad can't hear her unless he's right next to her, and even then he can't. So I am forever interpreting what each of them are saying. I can't even tell you how annoying that is. It would be far easier if we all knew sign language. I mean, we're sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner and he's got the news on full blast because he can't hear it, even though it's a few feet away. And then if we try to have a conversation, he tries to talk over the tv which of course doesn't work. I think my mom whispers just to aggravate him and get him to turn the tv down.
When you look at my dad in the face, one of his eyes goes one way and the other goes slightly another way, which is really weird. So I asked him, "Dad, why does one of your eyes go way off somewhere, while the other one is looking at me?" He said, "I don't know," kind of gruff and annoyed. But he told me tonight that he wants to make an appointment with the eye doctor to see what's wrong with it. I would say that my dad is turning into a pirate and his eye is just preparing him for his role. He's already got the scowl and growl down. Or maybe it's part of his costume for Halloween. But then, there goes my imagination again. My dad would never go trick or treating. In fact, no one goes trick or treating around here - there's just a bunch of old people here. I did hear the sound of kids earlier in the afternoon, but it must have been a figment of my imagination.
However, I do intend on buying a jumbo bag of Butterfingers for October 31st, just in case...
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Just Don't Let Go
My mom keeps getting up after we put her to bed, after she's done all her personal stuff and taken her meds and has something to eat. She says she's hungry. So tonight, my dad helped her out of bed again and she made herself a sandwich and ate it in the kitchen. Instead of asking my dad to help her get back into bed, she thought she would do it herself. Through the walkie-talkie thing I could hear my dad yelling and swearing and calling for me. Apparently she started to fall, not getting all the way on the bed. So I rushed in there and helped my dad lift and scoot her where she should be. I thought my dad was going to have a heart attack he was pushing so hard and was so angry. She's dead weight and can't help us push, so it's real hard to get her where she needs to be if she gets out of place. On top of that, she had just had a hydrocone and a sleeping pill, so she was half asleep and probably won't remember a thing in the morning. It's getting really frustrating for my dad - you can tell my mom over and over again what not to do, and she'll do what she wants to do anyway.
The nurse finally came yesterday and today, the physical therapist came today and someone from Home Health will be coming to bathe her tomorrow. Thankfully it didn't take a long time for these folks to get approved to come to the house for her care. Now I'm hoping her healing will begin and she will recuperate soon. It seems like a long time that she has been incapacitated, but I'm sure for her it seems like an eternity.
Earlier in the night, we ordered pizza and they made it "3-way." My mom had cheese, I had onion, green pepper and mushroom and my dad had the same as I did but with pepperoni on his. We're eating and I happen to notice that my dad had taken one of "my" thirds, and I said, "Dad, you took one of mine." He said, "Oh, yeah, right - sorry," and he proceeded to hand the almost-finished piece to me. I said, "Gross, I don't want that," and he put it back in the box. My dad is something else, I tell ya. He cracks me up sometimes and doesn't even know why. He was telling my mom and I that women are better suited for certain jobs rather than men because women can do "boring" or "monotonous" jobs because they don't have a problem with them, but men can't do those jobs because they can't do boring work. I laughed and just shook my head and he said, "What? Is that prejudice?" I said, "NO, dad, what do YOU think?" He just mumbled some stuff that didn't make sense, my mom rolled her eyes and I had to smile. Wow.
I've had a touch of bronchitis the past few days, I know it's bronchitis because I get this on a regular basis on account of my asthma, but in order to get meds, I have to see a doctor. So off to urgent care I went. I waited an hour, saw the doctor for 2 minutes and the charge was $138.60. My insurance in Wisconsin does not pay for health care down here. So there goes a lot of money down the drain. Next time an "emergency" comes up, I'll go to the emergency room. My insurance may cover that. I wish I would have done that in the first place. But when you're sick, you don't think straight. Like my mom sliding down the side of her bed thinking she made it on top. And then when she was in bed, she asked me if she was in bed. Life is topsy-turvey like that a lot lately. Sometimes all you can do is grit your teeth and hang on real tight.
The nurse finally came yesterday and today, the physical therapist came today and someone from Home Health will be coming to bathe her tomorrow. Thankfully it didn't take a long time for these folks to get approved to come to the house for her care. Now I'm hoping her healing will begin and she will recuperate soon. It seems like a long time that she has been incapacitated, but I'm sure for her it seems like an eternity.
Earlier in the night, we ordered pizza and they made it "3-way." My mom had cheese, I had onion, green pepper and mushroom and my dad had the same as I did but with pepperoni on his. We're eating and I happen to notice that my dad had taken one of "my" thirds, and I said, "Dad, you took one of mine." He said, "Oh, yeah, right - sorry," and he proceeded to hand the almost-finished piece to me. I said, "Gross, I don't want that," and he put it back in the box. My dad is something else, I tell ya. He cracks me up sometimes and doesn't even know why. He was telling my mom and I that women are better suited for certain jobs rather than men because women can do "boring" or "monotonous" jobs because they don't have a problem with them, but men can't do those jobs because they can't do boring work. I laughed and just shook my head and he said, "What? Is that prejudice?" I said, "NO, dad, what do YOU think?" He just mumbled some stuff that didn't make sense, my mom rolled her eyes and I had to smile. Wow.
I've had a touch of bronchitis the past few days, I know it's bronchitis because I get this on a regular basis on account of my asthma, but in order to get meds, I have to see a doctor. So off to urgent care I went. I waited an hour, saw the doctor for 2 minutes and the charge was $138.60. My insurance in Wisconsin does not pay for health care down here. So there goes a lot of money down the drain. Next time an "emergency" comes up, I'll go to the emergency room. My insurance may cover that. I wish I would have done that in the first place. But when you're sick, you don't think straight. Like my mom sliding down the side of her bed thinking she made it on top. And then when she was in bed, she asked me if she was in bed. Life is topsy-turvey like that a lot lately. Sometimes all you can do is grit your teeth and hang on real tight.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Poop and More Poop
It's been very interesting the past couple days. My mom was discharged from the hospital yesterday morning, and they took her to the same nursing home she was at before. She said she wanted to go there, for reasons unknown. My dad and I got to the nursing home about 3:00 and she was sitting in the hallway waiting for us. She almost cried when we got there. She said she wanted to go home. With that, I asked a nurse what we had to do to get her out of there and she called the head nurse. The head nurse came in our room and tried to discourage us, in fact she had an attitude about it, and that if we take her out against medical advice, basically it would be on us. My parents had to sign a statement, stating such. She was very unhappy and I was more than glad to get her out of there, as her roommate was crazy and kept asking everyone where her bed was at. Also, my mom accused one of the CNA's of stealing her clothes. Her clothes. I said, "Mom why would anyone want to steal your clothes? Look, your shoes are still in the bag along with your flowered blouse and culottes." But she was hallucinating again and she believed that the "little, round CNA took her clothes."
Ok, well I pulled the car as close to the front door as possible because there was a big van in the way. The head nurse said no one there would help us get her in the car. At one point, I felt like I was going to rip her head off and asked her why she was giving us such a hard time. She backed off a little at that point, but really. No one to help us get her in the car? My adrenaline must have been pumping, because even though my mom weighs very little, she's dead weight, and between my dad and myself, we gathered her up and got her in the car. For a moment there, I had to yell at my dad and tell him I was stronger than he was and to move out of the way, and of course he said he was stronger than I was. Well, it was hot, I was sweating and in no mood to argue with him or the head nurse, but we got my mom in the car. I prayed a silent prayer that I wouldn't drop my mom and incredibly, I had the strength to get her in.
So we were off and I had to stop at Sprint because my phone had been acting up, but my parents stayed in the car with it running. Soon enough we were at the house, and this time it was a bit easier getting her out of the car, into her wheelchair. The whole time, she was talking nonsense and was really out of it. We got her in the house, I made dinner and eventually put her to bed. She was hallucinating the whole time and the way she was talking to me really bothered me. It was so not like her. But anyway, I gave her her sleeping pill and we put her to bed and all was well.
Today it was all about poop. Without going into great detail, the laxatives finally worked for my mom as she used the portable potty. When I emptied it, unfortunately the toilet couldn't hold it all and up it came. I had had it at that point and yelled for my dad to come in and fix the toilet. Of course he couldn't do it gently, but instead jammed the rubber thing in the toilet real fast making everything flow over the top onto the floor. I heard him swearing from the kitchen and I just shook my head. He won't touch the bucket - that's "my" job, and here he is standing in it in his socks. It was actually funny until I had to go in there later to get her pills that I asked her if she wanted when she was going to bed. Now she decided to take them. So, barefoot, I tiptoed, or as best as I can do that, into the bathroom. My dad had put down several towels but of course they were soaking wet. So when I got her pills and water, I told her to please go to sleep now. She said she would.
I went immediately into mine and my dad's bathroom and turned on the shower and stuck my feet in the water. I mean, with kids it's bad enough, if you know what I mean. I had to keep shouting at Kita to stay away cause that was all I needed was for her to roll in it or something.
In addition to the fun and games we've been having here, Kita ate something last night that made her real sick. I think she might have picked up a pill one of us had dropped, because she was laying on the floor with her tongue hanging out and her eyes wide open and glazed. I picked her up and she just laid in my arms and I became very worried, so I prayed that God would touch her. She gives me so much joy that I couldn't bear it if she would have died. That's how serious it looked. Even my dad was worried. She wouldn't sleep with me last night like she always does, but I felt her early in the morning come up on the bed. In the morning, her tail was wagging and she looked like her old self again. I was relieved and thankful - God hears and answers even prayers like that one.
So it's the end of the day and I'm safely in my room with the door closed. No more poop or sick dogs or swearing parents. Peace and quiet at last. That is, until I have to empty the "bucket" or venture into her bathroom for her pills. Tomorrow, I will wear shoes and clean the floor. Oh no. I just heard her still calling for my dad through my room. I think I'll turn the lights off and just pretend I'm in here sleeping...
Ok, well I pulled the car as close to the front door as possible because there was a big van in the way. The head nurse said no one there would help us get her in the car. At one point, I felt like I was going to rip her head off and asked her why she was giving us such a hard time. She backed off a little at that point, but really. No one to help us get her in the car? My adrenaline must have been pumping, because even though my mom weighs very little, she's dead weight, and between my dad and myself, we gathered her up and got her in the car. For a moment there, I had to yell at my dad and tell him I was stronger than he was and to move out of the way, and of course he said he was stronger than I was. Well, it was hot, I was sweating and in no mood to argue with him or the head nurse, but we got my mom in the car. I prayed a silent prayer that I wouldn't drop my mom and incredibly, I had the strength to get her in.
So we were off and I had to stop at Sprint because my phone had been acting up, but my parents stayed in the car with it running. Soon enough we were at the house, and this time it was a bit easier getting her out of the car, into her wheelchair. The whole time, she was talking nonsense and was really out of it. We got her in the house, I made dinner and eventually put her to bed. She was hallucinating the whole time and the way she was talking to me really bothered me. It was so not like her. But anyway, I gave her her sleeping pill and we put her to bed and all was well.
Today it was all about poop. Without going into great detail, the laxatives finally worked for my mom as she used the portable potty. When I emptied it, unfortunately the toilet couldn't hold it all and up it came. I had had it at that point and yelled for my dad to come in and fix the toilet. Of course he couldn't do it gently, but instead jammed the rubber thing in the toilet real fast making everything flow over the top onto the floor. I heard him swearing from the kitchen and I just shook my head. He won't touch the bucket - that's "my" job, and here he is standing in it in his socks. It was actually funny until I had to go in there later to get her pills that I asked her if she wanted when she was going to bed. Now she decided to take them. So, barefoot, I tiptoed, or as best as I can do that, into the bathroom. My dad had put down several towels but of course they were soaking wet. So when I got her pills and water, I told her to please go to sleep now. She said she would.
I went immediately into mine and my dad's bathroom and turned on the shower and stuck my feet in the water. I mean, with kids it's bad enough, if you know what I mean. I had to keep shouting at Kita to stay away cause that was all I needed was for her to roll in it or something.
In addition to the fun and games we've been having here, Kita ate something last night that made her real sick. I think she might have picked up a pill one of us had dropped, because she was laying on the floor with her tongue hanging out and her eyes wide open and glazed. I picked her up and she just laid in my arms and I became very worried, so I prayed that God would touch her. She gives me so much joy that I couldn't bear it if she would have died. That's how serious it looked. Even my dad was worried. She wouldn't sleep with me last night like she always does, but I felt her early in the morning come up on the bed. In the morning, her tail was wagging and she looked like her old self again. I was relieved and thankful - God hears and answers even prayers like that one.
So it's the end of the day and I'm safely in my room with the door closed. No more poop or sick dogs or swearing parents. Peace and quiet at last. That is, until I have to empty the "bucket" or venture into her bathroom for her pills. Tomorrow, I will wear shoes and clean the floor. Oh no. I just heard her still calling for my dad through my room. I think I'll turn the lights off and just pretend I'm in here sleeping...
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